


Sanctify the love that you crave

by wordsinpaper



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: 39th Timeline, Alternate Timelines, Angst, Doomed Timelines, Queliot Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 15:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19337542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsinpaper/pseuds/wordsinpaper
Summary: In a timeline where Quentin doesn’t cross paths with Alice before she tries the spell that allows The Beast to come to Earth, Julia gets into Brakebills, and everyone else is pretty much the same. Welcome to the 39th timeline.





	Sanctify the love that you crave

**Author's Note:**

> My late entry to Day 6: Alternate Timeline  
> As this is an alternate timeline, don’t expect a happy ending. The major character death is implied, even if it’s not explicitly written.  
> There are heavy mentions of scenes from 2x01 and some of the dialogue is cut straight out of that episode, with a change or two here and there, mostly due to Alice’s absence in this fic.  
> Also, this is unbetaed, but I'll come back later and read it again. However, if you find any mistakes in the meantime, feel free to point them out to me.  
> Title from “Sanctify” by Years & Years.

“So why are we here again?” Quentin asks, sitting on one of the Physical Kids cottage’s couches, his hands between his knees.

“Q, it’s been a week.” Julia starts. Quentin’s shoulders hunch closer together and his hands bury themselves deeper between his thighs. “I gave you a whole week to deal with what happened on your own terms, but now it’s time to face it.”

He sighs and leans back on the couch, eyes falling closed. “I told you before, I have no idea why this … this  _ creature _ from another world would be after me.”

“I can kinda see the appeal. In a completely different way, of course.” Quentin hears behind him and feels fingers scratching the back of his head.

He recognizes the voice well, but he still opens his eyes. Above him is an upside down Eliot. Or, well, at least that’s how Quentin sees him from this angle. He smiles a mischievous smile at Quentin.

“Eliot,” Julia calls and Quentin watches as Eliot takes a step back from him, fingers falling away from their sweet torture. “Now isn’t the time for this. We need to be serious. You saw what it did to Dean Fogg.”

Eliot raises his hands in a placating gesture and disappears to his drinks corner, no doubt already thinking of new ways to mix them to get Julia to calm down and not stress everyone in the cottage.

“Honestly, Q, your boyfriend needs to start taking things seriously. You’re in the sights of a mad man.”

Quentin splutters and sits back up so fast he almost topples face first into the coffee table in front of him.

“He’s not… We’re… Jules!” he hisses at her, looking back at where Eliot just disappeared to, trying to find out if he’s heard any of it. He doesn’t see any reaction from the other student, so he breathes out a sigh of relief.

Julia shrugs. “We need to find out more about this moth man and why he’s after you.”

There’s a groan behind him and he looks over to see Margo approach.

“Quentin, why is your equally nerdy friend here?” she asks as she makes her way over and sits down beside him. He knows better than to think she’s actually looking for an answer. “Doesn’t she know this is the  _ physical kids _ place?”

There’s a drink in her hand that Quentin’s sure Eliot prepared. She sips from it and grabs the book that Julia had taken from his hands when she walked into the cottage and announced they needed to talk. His best friend didn’t seem to care that he was studying for a test. Well, excuse him if not everyone can just absorb all magical concepts as easily as breathing in oxygen.

“ _ She _ ,” Julia replies, “is here because no one seems to care that there’s a maniac out there and he calls our friend  _ by name _ .”

Quentin flinches a little internally. Sure, he was taken in by Eliot and Margo -- even Todd, who’s actually quite a nice guy, if Quentin says so himself -- but he doubts they see him as a friend. He looks down and twiddles his thumbs.

Margo, however, seems pretty non-pressed. She turns Quentin’s book in her hands.

“Eliot got a really good grade at this. I don’t know if he did anyone any favors or if he actually understood any of this stuff, but you should probably ask him to help you out,” she tells Quentin, who looks at her and mumbles a small  _ thanks _ .

Julia makes an exasperated sound and crosses her arms defiantly. Margo sees this and turns to her, finally addressing the issue.

“We’re all over this guy like a pair of momma ducks looking after her ducklings. Do you think we don’t care? Look around you, we brought him into a super warded place, filled with excellent magicians. You know, the kind that actually  _ do _ things instead of just  _ reading about it _ .”

Quentin looks up at Julia and sees her jaw tighten. He sees the conflict in her eyes. She obviously wants to say something, but is telling herself it’s not worth picking a fight over this right now.

“So,” Margo continues, “instead of judging us from your high horse, why don’t you tell us what you’ve read about it and we can help each other out? Maybe we’ll get our shit together for long enough that we’ll survive this fucking mess. And, yes, drag our favorite nerd out of this alive.”

Resigned, Quentin’s best friend sighs and pulls out a folded piece of paper.

“This will sound crazy, but, please, bear with me.” She unfolds it and puts it on the coffee table, smoothing the paper. “I’m pretty sure this is where it came from. And I’m being totally serious, guys.”

Quentin freezes when he recognizes it. Margo lets out a shaky ‘ _ you’ve got to be fucking kidding me’ _ beside him, even though she drops Quentin’s book beside her and leans forward with interest.

“Is that,” Eliot’s unusually quiet voice comes from above them, “I mean, I don’t much about this, but isn’t this the map from those books you guys love so much?”

He plops down beside Quentin on the couch and hands him a purple drink. At this point, Quentin doesn’t even question it anymore and just downs it all in one go. Eliot nudges him with his elbow.

“You were supposed to savor that, otherwise I wouldn’t have wasted my time concocting it and would’ve chosen to bring you a shot of something strong instead.”

Quentin throws him a confused glance.

“Does this look like the right time for me to fully  _ appreciate  _ anything? My best friend just implied that Fillory is real and the guy who’s out to kill me apparently comes from there. From the one magical,  _ fictional  _ place that brought so much joy to my life when everything else kept pushing me into dark and depressing roads.”

Eliot sighs and leans back. Their knees brush together and Quentin tries hard not to focus on that.

“Geez, tell me how you really feel, Q.”

He throws him a side glance, but ignores the comment. The way Eliot’s leg touches his briefly lets him know Eliot meant no harm with the comment. Quentin pushes back to let him know he got the message and forgives him.

“Ok. I’m giving you 30 seconds to explain how any of this is supposed to make any sense,” Margo tells Julia, bringing everyone back to the focus of the conversation.

Julia braces himself and, with a deep breath, gets the ball rolling again.

“I’m pretty sure I talked to the actual Jane Chatwin last night.”

“You what?” Quentin croaks incredulously.

Eliot’s arm drops on his shoulders over the back of the couch and taps him on the shoulder.

“Cliff’s Notes it for me?”

Quentin turns towards him and replies absentmindedly, hands gesturing wildly.

“She’s one of the Chatwin kids from the books. You know, the… the ones that use this, this grandfather’s clock and portal themselves to Fillory and become its rulers. She was the skeptic of the family. You also find out that she’s The Watcherwoman. She, uh, she got this… the dwarves got her this watch and she uses it. She winds it up and travels through time.”

Jules nods vigorously. “Yes, yes! When I saw her, we were in The Clock Barrens.”

Eliot taps Quentin on the shoulder again.

“It’s this magical place where, uh, clocks, like all different kinds, grow out of trees and the ground, and, supposedly, it’s where all moments exist at the same time. All the different timelines in the universe, I mean," he adds over his shoulder for Eliot's sake. He turns to Julia again. "Why didn't you lead with that?"

"Because it's crazy! Look, I don't want to know about your weird nerdy wet dreams-"

"Bambi," Eliot admonishes, pressing on Quentin's shoulder to make him lean back and allow Eliot to see Margo on the other side of the couch.

"What?” her voice raises as she turns to face him. She points at the map on the table. “What part of this whole thing sounds sane to you?"

"I think creepy moth people coming out of mirrors to threaten our lives and rip the eyes out of our university's Dean really raised the bar for that, don't you think?" Eliot counters calmly as if he was just making a passing comment on the weather.

He also starts drawing random patterns on Quentin's shoulder. Quentin drops further down on the couch and closer to Eliot, letting himself enjoy this small comfort in the middle of such an unpleasant conversation to keep his anxiety at bay.

"Q, she mentioned  _ Fillory and Further _ . I think the answer is in there somewhere, a way for us to get to Fillory and kill this guy before he kills us,” Julia adds.

Quentin sighs deeply.

“Penny took it before I moved into the cottage and I think he destroyed it out of spite. We’re pretty screwed, I guess.”

Eliot wordlessly hands him his flask and Quentin takes a long drink.

However, Julia seems thrilled by this information.

“Q! Let’s talk to him, then. He must know something,” she cries, already getting up and grabbing Quentin’s hand.

He pulls back, not unkindly and hands Eliot his flask back. “Jules, he hates me. I’m pretty sure if you tell him we need to know this in order to stop the guy who’s trying to kill me, he’ll find a way to help the other guy.”

“Harsh,” Eliot murmurs before taking a swig himself.

Julia grabs Quentin’s arm again and pulls with enough force to make him stand and pull away from his warm and cozy spot in Eliot’s arms.

“Come on, we’re getting this done.”

\---

Surprisingly (but also kind of not, because Quentin’s been there before), Julia’s charm melts away any untoward feelings Penny may have for Quentin and he’s suddenly super helpful.

They learn about a small box with a button that Martin Chatwin used to portal himself to Fillory whenever he wanted. After an awful trip to Christopher Plover’s house that forever tainted Quentin’s pure view of the Fillory books that mean so much to him, they now have the button in their possession.

Flash forward to present time, where Quentin is crouched down next to Eliot, explaining that they need to get Eliot crowned to have access to the Whitespire castle, while Penny flirts shamelessly with Julia. Margo is standing behind Quentin and Eliot and casually rolling her eyes at Penny’s antics.

“Um, so there's a-- there's a specific coronation place. In the forest,” Quentin says, pointing at the book in his hand.

Eliot leans over to read the page Quentin is showing him.

“There are four kings and queens,” Eliot says, having read just that on the page.

Quentin nods along, finger following the lines of text. “Yeah, you get to pick the other three.”

He pauses and looks wistfully up at Eliot. “Do I get to be a king?”

“Unless you want me to pick Penny,” Eliot deadpans.

Quentin studies his impassive expression, trying to get a feel for that comment, but Eliot quickly cracks and chuckles and Quentin immediately loosens up.

“You better not keep up this gag inducing flirting when we’re ruling this kingdom,” Margo remarks and Quentin’s hands on the book tremble slightly. He had forgotten Margo was right there.

Eliot laughs more freely as he gets up and extends a hand for Quentin to take. Once he’s upright again, he quickly drops Eliot’s hand and brings his attention back to the book, ignoring Margo’s  _ ‘I’m surrounded by hormonal idiots’ _ comment.

\---

A flower spell and a few pop culture questions, they are granted access to the crowns.

Eliot picks his up and considers it for a moment. He turns around to look at his friends.

“So I guess we just put them on,” he declares, raising the black and red crown above his head.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Quentin is stepping forward. “No, God, stop!”

Eliot freezes and raises an eyebrow at him, no doubt waiting for Quentin to tell him there’s a whole other obstacle they have to overcome before he can finally place the crown on his head.

And, okay, this is gonna get a bit embarrassing now. Quentin clears his throat.

“I mean, I just-- we should do a.. Uh, a ceremony.”

From the corner of his eye, Quentin sees Penny roll his eyes at him. Julia swats him on the arm and he crosses his arms, but doesn’t say anything.

Quentin takes a deep breath and continues. “This is only gonna happen once. We are becoming kings and queens, so… it's important and we should honor it.”

He walks closer to Eliot and reaches out for the crown. “Just give me that.”

Eliot brings it down and hands it over to him, but continues to stand there, looking expectantly at Quentin. Yeah… this isn’t gonna work like this.

“Kneel, Eliot Waugh.”

There’s a growing teasing smile on Eliot’s face. Quentin’s shoulders drop and he murmurs quickly, “Would you just do it? It's gonna be quick, I promise.”

The taller man concedes. Quentin takes a moment to take it in. The elusive and untouchable Eliot Waugh, kneeling at Quentin’s feet. Now there’s something he never thought he’d see.

“So, destiny is-- it's bullshit. But you are High King in your blood. And somehow that makes sense, you know? And I-I just-- for what it's worth, I think that you are going to be a really good king.”

He watches as Eliot’s eyes get a bit watery, but his smile doesn’t vanish from his lips, only grows fonder. And Quentin’s heart? It kinda softens a little bit more. Not that it wasn’t already so infatuated with the High King of Fillory, but there’s always room for more, isn’t there?

Quentin looks down at the crown, a growing smile on his face.

“Um, so, um, I-I dub thee, um.” He pauses, unsure. He addresses Eliot quietly, “I don't know. Would you say, like, you're more brave or merciful?”

“I'd say I'm neither,” he replies sincerely. “But I still plan to be a spectacular monarch.”

Quentin feels an overwhelming sense of pride. He slips back into character. “I hereby dub thee High King Eliot, the Spectacular.”

“Stop it,” he hears Julia complain behind him. He looks over his shoulder and Penny is shaking his head and turning his back on them.

When Quentin turns back around, Eliot has his eyes closed.

“Wow. This feels as natural as underwear,” he says and reaches out to grab Quentin’s hands. Quentin offers him his palms and helps him up, laughing under his breath.

“Thank you,” Eliot adds wholeheartedly.

In response, Quentin’s heart only falls deeper.

\---

Later still, after Margo, Julia and Quentin himself officially join the royal group and get their own crowns, they finally get to Whitespire.

They meet the Pickwick family, who’ve been running Fillory while waiting for the Children of Earth to come claim their throne. The team asks to be shown the Armory, where they expect to find books and weapons that will help them defeat The Beast.

Instead, they find the room depleted of all weapons and only a few useless books left behind. They go around the room, picking any books left behind.

“Someone took all the battle magic,” Quentin declares, defeated.

“It's not like The Beast is coming to find us any second,” he hears Eliot reply, dry and sarcastic as always.

“Wait, this is something,” Julia interrupts. Everyone stops and turns towards her. “This has spells. Looks like battle magic.”

Eliot approaches her and leans on the mostly empty bookshelf behind her. He looks over her shoulder. Quentin watches as they both frown and quickly turn the pages of the book Julia is holding.

“There are no actual spells, though. It’s almost like a whole table of contents, but without the actual content,” she reports in a somewhat incredulous tone.

Eliot takes a step back, not as captivated anymore.

“Hmm, like notes on cake, but no actual recipes. That's helpful.”

In the background, Quentin watches Margo walk away, looking for other possible leads.

“Who wrote it?” Eliot asks. Julia turns the book in her hands and lets out a sigh upon seeing the Brakebills seal on it.

“Of course. We need to go back to Brakebills.”

\---

Quentin left Julia and Margo to go over the details with Penny, who’s their personal plane ticket back to Earth. They’d left Tick Pickwick with Eliot. He kept insisting that Eliot had to take the reins and lead their kingdom back onto the right path.

It was made clear to them quickly after that that Eliot would have to stay behind, as there were “ _ a few immediate concerns that the High King must address _ ,” as Tick had put it.

Before leaving, Quentin makes his way back to the mostly bare Armory. He finds Eliot, sitting quietly and forlornly on the cold white stone, right where they had left him to be briefed by Tick.

“Hang on to this while I'm gone?” Quentin breaks the ice, lifting his crown in his outstretched hand and trying to lighten up the gloomy atmosphere.

Eliot looks up at him and watches as Quentin fiddles with it once his anxiety over Eliot’s lack of reaction takes control.

“Oh,” he says, appearing completely devoid of feeling. He looks back down at the open book in front of him, trying to pass off as being totally unaffected by the whole thing.

Quentin’s heart feels somewhat strangled when being confronted by that impassive mask. It mourns for the moments where it was granted access to Eliot’s open book of thoughts and emotions.

“You guys all packed?” Eliot asks, still looking down at the white page facing him.

“Yeah,” Quentin breathes out in a raspy voice. So much for getting a hold of his emotions.

Silence comes down around them and Quentin feels  _ awful _ .

“El,” he tries again. “Thank you.”

“For what? For, um, taking one for the team to the tune of the rest of my life?” Eliot bites back automatically, his walls back up and hackles raised.

Quentin doesn’t know what to say. Nothing he could possibly put into words could make any of this any better for his friend. Instead, he stands still, gulps and watches as the hurt reflected on Eliot’s face lasts only a second or two longer before it melts away to give way to pure resignation and exhaustion. He grips the crown in his hands and sees Eliot’s shoulders drop as he exhales deeply.

“I'm trying to see this ruling thing as an adventure,” Eliot continues in a much more neutral tone, even if it still sounds somewhat bruised. “Apparently we have enemies to the north  _ and _ south. Plus a broken infrastructure and huge magic issues thanks to The Beast and his Wellspring addiction.”

There’s a pause and his tone changes. “And do you know they don't know what champagne is here? I plan on inventing it. I'd like to be known as the Champagne King,” he adds with a dreamy expression on his face.

That makes Quentin smile. You can always count on Eliot to lighten up things on his own.

“It has a ring to it,” he agrees affectionately and leans back against the stone wall of the doorway.

“I’m really looking forward to drinking socially, like the French.”

Quentin chuckles. He looks back at Eliot and feels an overpowering pull, as if someone’s pulling on the strings of his puppet body, dragging Quentin closer to him. He should feel bad for being so powerless around this magnetic power over him, but, instead, he pushes himself away from the wall and walks closer to the High King.

There’s a smile growing on his friend’s face as Quentin approaches and moves some books away to make room. He sits next to Eliot, who seems to sober up some more and turn serious again.

“So, uh,” Eliot starts, hesitantly, hands moving over the soft cover of the book in his hands. He looks down at it. “In the books, time doesn't exactly run the same speed on Earth as in Fillory.”

Oh. Right. That’s…

Quentin looks at him, but there are so many emotions there that he’s not ready to face yet. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, trying to find the best way to word it that won’t immediately crush him, but that won’t leave Eliot with high fruitless hopes.

“I mean, look, sometimes it got screwy when Jane and Martin would go back and forth.”

He waits and assesses Eliot’s reaction to his passive declaration. He’s still staring at a fixed point in front of them, but frowns at that.

“But not always,” the High King presses, and Quentin isn’t sure that was a question or an assertion. It’s undoubtedly a search for hope and encouragement from Quentin.

He means too much to Quentin for him to lie to Eliot about this.

“It’s gonna be fine, El,” Quentin says instead, unbiasedly, and when he looks to his right, Eliot finally looks him in the eye again.

“Yeah,” he says and nods. Then, frowning slightly and a bit more firmly, “Yeah. Or I'll just live out my days waiting for my friends to return and... die alone.”

Now it’s Quentin’s time to look away. That’s not really something he’s ready to consider as a possibility. Gosh, how did his life turn into this mess? Wasn’t magic supposed to make it all better?

He leans closer to Eliot, offering some physical comfort, since there’s really not much he could possibly say to that. He feels Eliot lean heavily on him without barely moving from his spot. After a long quiet moment, he breaks the silence.

“You know, it's considered extremely disrespectful to touch a king without permission.”

Quentin looks down at their brushing shoulders at that and pulls back, interpreting it as a way for Eliot to let him know he’s had enough of emotional talk and needs to go back to his calm and collected persona. Especially now that he has a kingdom to rule and can’t let anyone access his weaker spots that easily. He respects that.

He’s actually considering getting up, saying his goodbyes and leaving before it gets any harder to do, when Eliot stops him with a soft, sad voice.

“But, um,” his voice trembles and it cracks Quentin’s heart a little bit more. “I think you should probably hug me right now.”

Quentin almost does a double take. Eliot is very openly affectionate with everyone. He doesn’t  _ ask _ for it. He just goes and takes it -- when he knows people will be okay with it, of course. For him to so quietly  _ plead _ Quentin for a display of affection when he’s feeling this vulnerable? Quentin can only imagine the turmoil going inside his head.

And so he turns and opens his arms, readily embracing him and holding onto him tight. Eliot, poor Eliot, takes it. He holds back just as tight, his nose buried in Quentin’s shoulder, his body expanding and collapsing with his deep breathing.

Quentin never wants to let go. He knows he’ll have to, eventually. They do have an evil entity to kill. But, right now, he just wants to stay in Eliot’s arms forever.

He feels Eliot pull slightly back to hook his chin over Quentin’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing against his back.

“It'll also be okay if you just give my ass, like, a little squeeze.”

They both shake with laughter and Quentin tightens his hold on him for a brief moment before pulling back.

“Always count on Eliot Waugh to ruin the mood,” he jokes with a grin that Eliot returns easily, his hands moving from Quentin’s back to rest on his shoulders.

“I thought I was  _ getting  _ us  _ in _ the mood,” he differs, winking exaggeratedly at Quentin.

Quentin shakes his head and looks down at where his hands are resting on Eliot’s sides. His fingers rub against the soft material of his vest.

Eliot’s hands start to slowly massage him and his fingers twitch in response. He looks up and finds a complacent smile on Eliot’s face. He’s looking at Quentin with that soft gaze he sometimes gets when they’re alone, talking about things that  _ matter _ .

The realization that Eliot could very well be right and this could be the last time they see each other hits Quentin like a punch in the gut and all the air leaves his lungs.

“Hey, you okay?” Eliot asks, a concerned frown taking over his forehead.

Quentin feels his fingers tingling and growing somewhat colder, his breathing picking up pace. He looks down at Eliot’s chest and tries to keep it down.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, too fast, nodding to himself, watching Eliot’s chest rise and fall steadily and trying to match his own breathing to it.

One of Eliot’s hands cradles Quentin’s cheek as it grows paler.

“Quentin,” he breathes and Quentin doesn’t miss his worried tone.

He thinks it’s not right for it to be Quentin who’s getting reassurance now. Eliot’s the one being left behind. But, God, what if Quentin gets back and Eliot’s died in his absence because he took too damn long to make his way back to his arms.

So he gathers up every little bit of courage left in him and looks up at Eliot’s kind eyes. He lets the feeling of Eliot’s smooth fingers caressing his face warm him up inside.

“Look,” he starts, unsteady, “I… uh.”

But he doesn’t really know what to say or how to say it. So he just… does it.

He pushes forward and kisses Eliot. He chickens out two seconds into it and immediately pulls back, but Eliot’s hand is still resting on his face, so he’s not entirely hopeless.

Eliot’s frown deepens but it instantly gets wiped away when a smile grows, slowly and uncertain, on his lips. And that’s the last thing Quentin sees before Eliot’s hand pulls him forward again and those smiling lips land on his again, more confident and sure than Quentin’s only moments before.

Leaving Eliot behind will certainly hurt even more now.

\---

They didn’t count on The Beast waiting for them the second they set foot on Earth, right outside the wards of the university.

They gave it their best, but they still weren’t ready to fight him. It was a losing battle from the beginning.

\---

“They failed again,” Fogg’s deep voice echoes in his office. He leans back on his chair and rubs at his face.

“Eliot is still alive, isn’t he?” Eliza asks, considering.

However, in contrast, she also pulls out the stopwatch, ready to turn back time for the 40th time.

Fogg shakes his head. “He’s alive, but he’s of no use to us alone. He’s oblivious, stuck in Fillory, but once he knows all his friends are dead…”

He doesn’t finish that thought, but Eliza nods understandably.

“Maybe if we remove Julia from the equation and make Alice and Quentin cross paths again earlier, it’ll work out. She’s really smart.”

“We haven’t tried that combination yet, so why not give it a go?” Fogg replies with a shrug.

He gets up from his desk and makes his way to his whiskey. He pours a generous measure and gulps it all down in one go. He puts the glass down again and turns around. He watches as Eliza turns the Time Key in her hand.

“Will we ever succeed?” Fogg asks in a small voice.

She looks up. One side of her face twitches in an attempt at a reassuring one-sided smile.

“I don’t know, but we have to keep trying.”

She slips the key in the small lock of her watch and turns it in a well-practised movement.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [here](http://wordsputtopaper.tumblr.com/).


End file.
